


The Tunnel to Wonderland is Lined With Bad Intentions

by AliceInCandyland



Series: A Web of Wonder [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Abusive Parents, Angst, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Forced Prostitution, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master of Death Harry Potter, Parallel Universes, Rape Recovery, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, mental fuckery, no one knows who is good guy and who isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInCandyland/pseuds/AliceInCandyland
Summary: Harry wishes someone would save her.Maybe a prince or a knight. She's not picky.Though, if she could choose, she'd rather have a dragon. One with black scales and fearsome red eyes. One that could eat her aunt with a single bite, fly Harry off to a world with mermaids and fairies and unicorns.She would name him… Marvolo.Because he would be marvelous.





	The Tunnel to Wonderland is Lined With Bad Intentions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PurpleMango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMango/gifts).



Harry got her mother's big glassy green eyes, like emeralds that sparkled when she cried.

That's all her aunt had said to her about her mother,  _ ever _ . Harry thought maybe it was because Auntie was her mother's sister and sisters aren't supposed to hate each other.

But her father… Auntie talked about her father in a way that made venomous snakes pull away, vitriol lining her tongue and eyes like forest fires. The thin woman- with the face that almost looked like a horse-  _ hated _ her father.

Unfortunately, Harry got most of her father's attributes. She imagined he was a tall man with warm brown eyes and inky hair that would never stay still, like her own messy black hair. A charming smile and pearly white teeth, and whenever she got the chance she'd smile in the mirror, imagine it was him smiling at her.

Auntie said he was a drunk, that he'd caused the car crash,  _ ‘that good for nothing low life scum!’ _ she would spit, as if it would blacken Harry's imagination. But in her dreams the tall man with the messy hair would pick her up and spin her around, and tell her everything was alright.

That was the one good part about herself, the thing she liked the most, her imagination.

Her fifth grade teacher had asked the class to go around and share their favorite thing about themselves and so she said her imagination. Auntie would be mad if she said  _ ‘knowing how to cook’ _ ,  _ ‘timing her chores so she didn't get beat’ _ , or  _ ‘being a good-for-nothing whore’ _ ... so she went with her imagination instead.

It seemed like a safe choice.

**~~~**

When she had come home with a black eye and a split lips from some girl who had accused her of ‘trying to steal her boyfriend’ because the boy had been making crass comments about her, Auntie yelling at her to get herself fixed up, she gave that crooked smile in the mirror and imagined her father. 

He would have been fighting because someone tried to bully his friends, but he would have been brave and strong, fighting back where she had just taken the punches while cowering back.

She could imagine his warm hands ruffling her hair, telling her that she was brave enough, but then her Aunt's shrill voice cut through the air and she went back downstairs to start dinner.

**~~~**

The small grey townhouse had two neighbors (at least, they were the only neighbors she was allowed to know or talk to).

The house to her right held a tall man with stringy black hair and a slightly hooked nose named Snape. ‘ _ Professor Snape to you,’  _ the tall man always said with a sneer when her aunt would shove her out in the yard and she found the courage to speak to the man. He was a Chemistry Professor and even if he insulted her with barbed words every time he opened his mouth, at least he never tried to touch her.

The house to her left, however, Harry liked much more.

Xenophilius Lovegood had long blonde hair with kind blue eyes and he was a writer for a local newspaper, which fit because he told the most fantastic stories. When Auntie had a guy over that she wasn’t supposed to see, Harry would go over to Xeno's house to read to or talk with Luna.

Luna Lovegood was her honorary sister. With the loveliest crystal blue eyes, the girl always managed a smile whenever Harry came to visit, which was impressive for someone slowly dying. Some terminal illness she couldn’t exactly pronounce had its claws in the frail girl, but she never showed it, always making time for Harry. 

Xeno was the one who taught Harry to read and write, but Luna the one to teach her how to laugh until she cried and how to best eat popcorn while watching cheesy romance movies and yelling at the characters on the tv.

Even if she was shattered, if she had Luna, she'd have hope

**~~~**

Harry’s life didn't have color. 

Her world was mostly limited to the dull faded pastels of the house and the greys of her clothes. She sometimes saw color in the clothes of the other teenagers, the flowers in the garden, and the dresses her aunt wore when the unfamiliar men came over- but she was never allowed any color herself.

The only time she could wear color was when she didn't want it.

_ Purples.  _

The mark like a hand curling around her upper arm even if no one was touching her, the lines stinging her back, the bite marks lying under green concealer.

_ Reds _ . 

Chapped lips, cracked from lack of care, and blood dripping down her skin. The angry hickeys hidden under high collars, the stinging flesh of her thighs. The thin lines that followed sharp knives, the color of her blood-stained mattress.

_ Yellows.  _

Fading bruises, unfinished ‘works of art’ left forgotten to turn into sickly colors that would mar her normally golden skin. 

_ Greens _ . 

Her eyes, glassy and more shattered in the mirror with every passing day. The same color of the light she’d sometimes see in her nightmares.

**~~~**

It seemed her life were a series of single words, blurring together to create something that could be described as existing, but not living. 

Sleep. Cook. School. Garden. Clean. Hide. Read. Bed.

Over and over.

But she knew better than to complain. Complaints either got her left without dinner, or Auntie would look at her with big eyes and tell her that she’d  _ ‘done everything from raise her to take her in’ _ and that she  _ ‘could learn to give a little back’ _ . Or, on the nights when Auntie would get drunk, Harry would have lessons in staying still while getting objects thrown at her.

Though it seemed, just like a broken record player, she kept coming back to a few specific words. 

Hurt. Broken. Lonely. 

She was made of those three words, repeated and pressed into every crack of her shattered heart.

_ Hurt _ . 

A strange man looming over her, his blurred face hungry, and she tries to imagine herself somewhere else even as large hands grip at her. She knows she'll be bruised in the morning, but she focuses instead on breathing in and out, getting through the next few hours.

_ Broken _ .

She's left laying on her dirty mattress, body numb. Auntie yells something and she moves mechanically to the shower to clean herself up. It's not like it can rid her of the stains on her soul, but it helps return some feeling to her fingers and toes so she does it anyway.

_ Lonely _ .

Left without dinner for overcooking the meat, Harry curls up under the thin blanket in as tight a ball as she can. The window is small, but it shows her the stars at night and so she lays curled up and watches the night sky, wishing someone would save her. 

Maybe a prince or a knight. She's not picky.

Though, if she could choose, she'd rather have a dragon. One with black scales and fearsome red eyes. One that could eat her aunt with a single bite, fly Harry off to a world with mermaids and fairies.

She would name him… Marvolo. 

Because he would be  _ marvelous. _

**~~~**

When Harry had turned eleven, she got a letter inviting her to a boarding school. 

_ Hoggard's School for Young Women. _

Hoggard's was a large blocky building that looked like a prison. 

Though in a way- she thought that was a fairly apt description. 

She had very high hopes for the school, being as she'd be able to get away from her aunt for nine months of the year. And yet, that had been before she met Headmaster Dumbledore.

An older man, with twinkly blue eyes, she knew that there had been something off about the man the first time she'd seen him. He reminded her more of Fenrir, a man that regularly left her with bruises and a sick feeling, than of Xeno's warm presence or even Snape's chilly demeanor.

For the first four years it was just an interest that bordered on obsession, but she could avoid it by hiding away in the library or in detention with Professor Snape. At least she had friends that came in the form of Hermione and Rhonda. Hermione was a bigger girl with glasses that wasn’t that smartest but who had a wonderful smile while Rhonda was a shy redhead that tended to be a bit boy-crazy, but Harry wouldn’t trade them for the world.

But when she came back to the old grey townhouse after her fifth year, all the hope she had cultivated that Hoggard's would be a safe place had been stomped all over and burned to ashes.

Harry was over at the Lovegood house for the first time since she'd been back. 

Luna looked to her with those hopeful sapphire eyes, asked what exciting things she'd learned and if she'd made any friends.

Feeling a ball of guilt well up in her throat, she tried to lie, but as soon as the first word cracked she was falling apart. Tears, sobs, and silent screams wracked her body as she leaned over the bed that belonged in a hospital and let it all out.

All the hurt, the brokenness, the loneliness. 

Harry cried it all out, and in the empty space in her chest, a thorny flower bloomed with flowers as black as night. She named it Hopelessness and the more she hated it, the more it grew.

**~~~**

Sixth year at Hoggard’s was a lesson in manners, like the old obsessive Headmaster said as he loomed over her, the thorny black plant in her chest blooming another of it’s horrible flowers.

_ ‘Learning manners,’  _ she thinks, are learning things like saying ‘excuse me’ when closing a conversation hurriedly or not putting your elbows on the dinner table. Things like how to walk like a lady in high heels, how to glide down staircases, or the proper spoon to use at fancy dinner parties. 

Learning ‘manners’ is _not_ supposed to be a belt coming down on her back because she spit instead of swallowed, nor is her teacher supposed to be touching her like this. 

She finds herself in the library whenever she can to read up on Victorian Era Lords and Ladies, so when her ‘lessons’ get too much for her, she can hide herself away in her mind and dance with gentlemen and ladies that would never touch her without her permission.

Like always she goes to Rhonda’s house for the winter break, Hermione’s house having too many siblings, whereas the redhead was an only child. 

Molly Weasley’s a high powered lawyer, Arthur Weasley a stay-at-home dad that always has an easy smile on his face and is quick to pull his wife out of her work. They’ve both offered to help her at home, but once again she refuses. Her aunt would make sure she doesn’t see a cent of the inheritance she got from her parents if she did anything, and she was relying on that money to go far  _ far _ away when she was 18.

Winter break’s always nice, just as soothing and safe as when she’s at Luna’s house and she even convinces Molly to teach her how to play more songs on the piano. It’s been a slow process, she never gets the chance to practice outside of the large Weasley house, but she has an excellent memory so it’s not hard to catch back up to where she’d been before. 

She spends the whole break either reading or at the piano, much to the amusement of the red-head family, and when she goes back to Hoggard’s she plays piano chords against the cold floor to match the imaginary waltzing in her head while she blocks out the ministrations of the man touching her.

**~~~**

Auntie was angry.

Angry that she’s alive, that she’s unaffected by the increasing visits of the men, that she doesn’t seem to  _ care _ anymore.

Harry’s been locked in her room for the past two weeks, her only food the stale sandwiches water Auntie had pushed under the cat flap on the door, when she looks over at her clock and realizes her birthday has probably already passed. 

Seventeen.

There’s a sigh in her chest- she’s still got a year to go before she’s free.

Auntie pulls her out of her room the next day, her fingers able to almost fully encircle Harry’s bicep and shoves her in a chair. Xeno is sitting stiffly in the loveseat used for  _ guests _ . She tries to say something, but her voice doesn’t come out- she knows better than to try to talk in this room.

Hopelessness roots deeper in her chest, but she doesn’t cry. 

Doesn’t even open her eyes after clamping them shut, not even when her aunt tries to  _ ‘remind her of her manners’ _ . There’s no place for the man she thought of as a father in this bleak grey house, especially not in this room with the faded wallpaper and the bloody mattress, and she’s afraid if she accepts it that she’ll shatter completely.

It’s at the end of the  _ visit,  _ having beaten her to a bloody broken mess of fluids that aren't hers, that the man finally says anything. “It’s  _ your  _ fault she’s dead.”

That last tiny flower in her chest, the one that bloomed in the light of the moon and shone when Luna smiled at her- it’s finally crushed by the spikey black bush of rotten flowers that Hopelessness has become.

She shatters, and with her, so does reality.

One second she’s on the cold stone floor, loose grey shirt and black shorts pooling around her thin frame from when she’d used all the energy she could to cover herself, the next second she’s strangely warm. There’s the sound of voices as she blinks, slowly uncurls from the small ball she’d made when the man had started to hit her. Wiping the blood from where it was dripping down her face, she gapes at the people surrounding her. 

Ladies in gowns with silver and gold trim, lords in expensive suits. 

She stands up slowly on shaky legs, ignoring the pain to turn in a circle, a broken laugh escaping her lips when she sees the full suited orchestra watching her. The laughter grew louder and she sunk to her knees again, the laughs turning to sobs, her chest hurting. 

There’s the feeling of wind, as if there’s a storm around her, and she looks up to see a cloud of black sand whirling around her. 

The sound of music cuts through her haze, a violin, and the black sand slows in it’s imitation of a hurricane before melting away. She rubs at her face, voice a whisper. “I make it to heaven and the first thing I do is cry. How  _ pathetic _ .” Slowly, body aching, she pushes herself up and eyes the crowd that’s still watching her like she’s a wild animal. 

Her eyes meet a boy with blonde hair that’s looking at her with wide eyes and she sucks in a sharp breath. He looks like Draco Malfoy, the boyfriend of Maddie Richards, the girl who had tormented her all thought her years at Hoggard’s.

“Malfoy?” Her voice is just a breath, but the boy’s eyes widen even more.

The boy steps forward and she scrambles back, instantly finding the closest exit and bolting for it.

She knows one thing. If Malfoy was here, this definitely  _ wasn’t  _ heaven. 

**~~~**

It’s a while later, but someone finds where she’d curled up, having gotten lost in the winding halls.

The tall man stares at her as if she's one of the bunnies her Auntie liked to throw rocks at for daring to eat the plants in their small backyard garden. He has red eyes, an aristocratic face that the Greeks would have worshiped, and something forgotten deep in her chest twists at the sight of him.

Harry knows she’s all skin and bones and she can feel her body aching because of how she's folded up against the wall like a collapsible chair, but it's the only way she can stop the all-consuming  _ fear _ . There's a sharp pain behind her ribs and she probably has a few things broken but that doesn't matter. It'll only be worse if she doesn't find a way home- out of this too-colorful house and back to Auntie before she’s noticed to be missing.

“Please.” Her voice is rough, cracking from disuse and the terror in her blood. “Can you help me?” 

The man's strange ruby red eyes widen with some unknown emotion and she tenses, curls up tighter in a ball. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Im sor- I’m sorry” Her voice is a quiet chant, a prayer that he won't hurt her. 

The man sinks to his knees in front of her and she's so shocked that she forgets to breath for a second, sucking in a small gasp. The red eyes are even more brilliant up close. She only sees things that red when she bleeds, and the crimson orbs are  _ beautiful.  _ “What's your name?” Even the man's voice is like velvet, smooth against the rough rawness that’s the fear in her chest.

“Harry?” It's a question, because she’s really whoever anyone wants her to be. If he were to say her name is  _ ‘Phil’ _ she’d nod and accept it. She’s been called different names before by the men that traipsed through the grey house and this man at least seemed like one of the nicer ones.

The man blinks slowly and she's reminded of a snake laying on a hot rock. “Well then Harry, what do you want help with?”

She turns the words over in her mind, never thinking once to move from the small ball she had made of herself. “I have to go home.” She says at last, voice a sad whisper. She wished she could stay in this beautiful world of color, but it's not meant to be. “My Aunt... she’ll be missing me.”

With a slight nod, the man pulls a strange thin stick from his sleeve and says something she can't understand. A ball of light beams forth from the stick, floating in the air and the man stands up.

Harry just stares at the ball of light. “Whoa.”

Waving his hand slightly as if to bekon her, the man looks faintly amused. “Come on then. This way.”

Slowly, as if needing to unhook every tightened joint in her body made of rusted parts, Harry stands up with a wary glance to the man who had moved to give her some space. She moves stiffly, slowly following the man’s long strides through the halls. Her eyes catch for a second on a room with a grand piano and she swallows down tears, making herself keep walking. 

The room the man enters is larger, a fire going against the far wall, and a few people standing around. But her eyes are trained on one man, body freezing in the doorway.

Fenrir Greyback.

The man’s eyes turn on her and she stiffens, hands balling up. He’s not supposed to be here- he can’t- not here- She doesn’t realize that the black dust was swirling around her hazily until a man steps into her line of sight and she blinks. “Pro- Professor Snape?” The dust is gone, but her chest tightens in something akin to betrayal. “You- you said you’d never-” She’s hyperventilating, backing into a wall and sinking to the floor again.

“Severus, do something.”

The man stepped forwards, hands raised, and he sunk to the floor in front of her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

That’s the second time an adult has sunk down to her level, not just kicking her and yelling at her to stand up and she blinks wetly. “Sir- sir, Luna- she’s….” Her voice is a whisper. “She’s dead. And he- he…” She can’t bring herself to say it or she’ll fall apart for good, can’t acknowledge where she’s being ripped apart by the Hopelessness bush rotting away at her insides.

“What did... he do?” The voice of the professor is unusually soft. 

She looks up, eyes wet. “Sir, can you call Molly Weasley for me? I think I might need to call in that favor. I think I need her help to cover up the murder of my aunt.” Her laugh was bitter but she knew to apologize for her rude humor even if she knew the Professor usually didn’t mind. “Kidding sir... Just- just call her? Please?” 

There was some question in the dark eyes. “And why would Molly Weasley help you with that?”

“She’s a lawyer.” She recoils slightly at the man’s startled laugh. “She is! Her daughter Rhonda goes to Hoggard’s with me and ‘Mione! You should know your student’s parents….” Her voice breaks off, uncertain.

Snape looks confused. “I’m a potions Professor at  _ Hogwarts _ .” 

Oh. 

That’s not right.

As if to test this theory, she looks up uncertainty, trying not to let her panic get the best of her when she meets the eyes of Greyback… but his face is different slightly. More hairy animal, less ‘ _ overcompensating sadist’. _ Swallowing her panic in need for answers, she pushes herself up the wall slightly. “You. Your name is Fenrir Greyback.”

It’s not a question, but the man bites out a short, “Yeah.”

“And…” She hikes up her shorts slightly to point at a place on her thigh so bruised and cut up she has no hope for it ever healing, not with the man’s proclivities for always making it worse. “What’s this?”

The man’s face twists in what she knows as a warning of something bad to come and she’s up against the wall before he can even move, eyes wide and breath fast. With a strange look at her, the man huffs and looks away while shrugging nonchalantly. “Hell if I know.”

The breathless laugh escaped her lips before she can stop it. The Fenrir she knew would have grinned and said,  _ ‘a work in progress, want me to add to it?’  _ before pulling out a knife and pinning her down to do just that.

Again she’s crying, but it’s in happiness. Sinking to the floor, she smiles up at Snape. “My aunt. P-...” She takes a deep breath, but she can’t seem to ever bring herself to speak that name. “P-Petun-”

“Petunia?”

Harry nods. “Is she as much a bitch as I remember… living alone and whoring herself out to anyone who can pay?”

The dark haired man started to cough in what looks to be surprise and (ignoring her slight giggles) he frowned. “Petunia Evans got married to Vernon Dursley. They- they have a kid.”

This makes her gasp in laughter, tears falling harder. “I- I think I really fucked up this time.” Her ribs hurt, she’s pretty sure she’s bleeding internally, and she has no idea what strange universe she fell into. “And Dumbledore? Is he as big a manipulative pervert as always?”

Snape seems thrown off yet again. “I-... manipulative, yes.”

She snorts. “Guess not everything can be perfect…Though it- it was a nice dream. Especially to... die to.” Her eyes are spotting, the tears on her cheeks flowing freely now. “Thought… I would make it…”

Strong hands catch her, voices tense around her as she’s picked up, but the velvet voice from earlier is talking over them. “Make what Harry?”

Instead of answering, she just gives a weak smile, finally recognizing those eyes. “M- Marvo…lo…” Finally giving into the exhaustion, she trusts that her red eyed dragon-prince would take her safely to the afterlife.

**~~~**

Harry wakes just enough to smell something that smells like dirty feet, eyes opening just long enough to see Snape leaning over a large black bowl-thing, but before she can ask she’s slipping back to sleep.

The next time she wakes, it’s to quiet whispers of  _ ‘untamed magic’ _ and something about being a  _ ‘obscur-’. _ She blinks and red eyes meet hers, the man moving over to her side smoothly, hand stretching out to brush her hair out of her face. “Go back to sleep…” As if her eyelids are bowing to him, they close against her will.

Finally, the third time she wakes, Marvolo is reading a book in an armchair by the bed. “Dr-dragon…” Her throat is sore, but it makes the man look up. “A- a dragon… With red eyes and black scales… You- you’re Marvolo.”

Those lovely red eyes blink slowly, like a snake, watching her. “I do not usually go by that name, but yes, that is my middle name. How do you know it?”

She smiles tightly. “Did you eat my aunt?” He looks taken aback at the question and she frowns. “Damn. I really thought I ordered a dragon,  _ not  _ a prince, to sweep me off my feet and take me to a far away land.” 

“You think this is a dream?” The man’s head tilted slightly. “Why?”

Locking up her emotions tightly in her chest, she looks at the ceiling, which is decorated with the solar system. “It has to be.” Her voice is soft. “I spent all of fifth year blocking out-... I read all those books on the Victorian Era, about etiquette and balls. Not to mention the piano or the fact I'm in a  _ bed _ .”

The door opened and she tensed until she saw it was just Snape, Marvolo nodding at him. “Severus. Come in.”

The man eyed her, stepping to the side of the bed, before speaking. He spoke in the direction of the red-eyed man, but the words and his eyes were for her. “I would like to do a full medical screening. I healed whatever I could to stabilize her, but I think it best we get started on the other areas of damage before they get worse.”

She’s never seen a doctor, not unless it was the one that came to the house to look at her once a year and then give her a ‘ _ full examination’  _ as he liked to call it. Apparently this is reflected in her body language because the man’s eyes widen slightly as she starts to hyperventilate. “Harry- Harry, I promise not to hurt you. I won’t even touch you- you’re okay...”

“Back up.” The velvet voice was a growl now, the Professor backing up a few paces smoothly. “Harry- tell me, can you play the piano?”

She nods halfheartedly, trying to breathe.

Cold hands gently grab hers, and she's already so deep in her panic she can do nothing but go with it, red eyes intent on her as he moves it so her fingers are touching his palms. “Play me something?” Nodding, she starts to tap out the different chords on the smooth hands and slowly her breath comes back to her. As she sinks to the bed in exhaustion, she watches Marvolo draw out that same stick from before and wave it at her. 

A long piece of yellow(ish) paper appears and the two men grow grim as it keeps growing.

Now out of the trenches of her panic, she watches the paper expand. “Nice- nice magic trick... What’s it supposed to be?”

“Your medical history. Every scrape, bump, and bruise.”

At that she snorted. “Oh, I get it now. That’s pretty fucked up humor though…” Both men eyed her and the slight smile slipped from her face. “Wait… you’re serious?” She moved to grab the end of the paper, starting to read, eyes widening as she did. 

She looked up to meet red eyes, a frown underlying the velvet voice. “Normally, a full adult only has at most six feet of paper- anything past that’s usually only for experienced Aurors.”

Harry tilted her head a bit in question, paper forgotten. “What’s an ‘Ahror’?

The two men just looked at each other. 

Biting back her frown, she sighed and sank back into the bed, eyes closing.

**~~~**

Hearing a loud smash, she sat up immediately, heart in her throat. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Scrambling back into the corner, she curled herself into a ball. “Sorry- I'm sorry…”

“Harry? It’s not your fault. My Lo-  _ Marvolo…  _ was just a bit upset at this medical scan.”

Cracking open an eye and swallowing back the fear, she slowly untensed her hands, nails having dug into her legs. “I… I’m broken.” It was a whisper, the bush of rotting flowers in her chest seeming to pulse. Her nails sunk back into her skin.

There were slow footsteps, the very end on the bed dipping and she glanced up warrily at the man she was sure had to be some type of dream. “I used to live in an orphanage.” Marvolo didn’t even look her way, voice flat. “I hated it, thought that nothing could be worse than that but-... You proved me wrong. You’ve lived through hell.”

Releasing her grip slightly, she edged towards the side of the bed, not wanting to acknowledge what had happened to her without knowing exactly where she was. “Can- can I-... may I take a shower?” 

“Of course.” Standing smoothly, red eyes finally found her. “I will have Severus wait outside these doors, I am going to get some different clothes for you…” Lips pulled into a slight frown for a second. “Are you okay with more… material?”

The breath that she exhaled was relieved, happy for the chance to get out of these thin dirty clothes. “Please.”

Both of the men excited and for the first time in the last couple weeks, she let out all the tension in her chest, moving quickly to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Stripping, she fiddled with the shower controls until it came out hot, sighing at the heat surrounding her. 

Mentally, she tallied up what she knew.

  * Luna was dead.
  * She was in a house/ mansion/ place she didn’t know.
  * Apparently her knight-in-shining-armor/ dragon with red eyes was here, named Marvolo.
  * Greyback wasn’t going to touch her.
  * Snape wasn’t a chemistry professor, he was a... ‘potions’ professor?
  * Marvolo could do magic.
  * Auntie was married and had a _kid_ (poor kid)
  * Marvolo wasn’t actually a dragon-prince and had lived in an orphanage (???)
  * Dumbledore was still on her ‘Avoid At All Costs’ list
  * She had gotten to sleep on a bed and her back was thanking her



And most important: 

  * They have a piano



So… all in all, she knew next to nothing about anything.

There was a soft knock on the door that had her pressing herself to the corner of the shower. 

“I’m leaving these clothes right outside the door.” 

Listening intently, she breathed a lot easier when she heard the soft click of a door. Finally pulling herself away from the hot water, she dried herself off the best she could, noticing that most of her bruises were faded and healing. Poking at her ribs, she blinked. It was as if they’d been fixed, but…

Shrugging off her thoughts, she slowly opened the door, peering out and grabbing the clothes quickly. A simple pair of black pants, a knit green sweater, and a long black overcoat-thing. Pulling them on quickly, she fidgeted with the sleeves, smiling softly. She’d never had something that was both warm, clean, and that covered most all of her skin. 

Grabbing the hairband off the counter where she’d put it down, she tied back up her long hair, hating to have it down where it could be pulled. Pausing, she smiled in the mirror, pressing her fingers lightly to it. “Love you too Dad.”

Walking through the bedroom, she slowly pulled open the other door, flinching back instinctively when someone moved forward. 

“Sorry…” Snape moved back slowly, eyes watching her with a sort of sad frown.

Grimacing, she fidgeted with her sleeves. “Force of habit... I should be the one saying sorry.”

The Professor was silent for a moment, before moving slowly down the hallway. “We’re in Malfoy Manor at the moment.” She bit her lip to stop herself from cringing. “There is speculation that you aren’t… from this dimension. But, your magic is-”

“My  _ what _ ?” She looked up with wide eyes.

Dark eyes looked back at her briefly. “You- Harry, you’re a witch. You can do magic, but- but because you’ve been in a bad place your magic is…  _ wild _ .” There was a softness to his tone that she could appreciate, like he was trying to ease her into this. “I’m also going to give you some potions to help you heal and gain back some of the weight that you lost.”

She didn’t say anything, but that didn’t sit well with her, taking something that she didn’t know what it was.

He must have noticed because his lips quirked up. “I’m going to explain my position as a healer and the vows i’ll give you, then I will explain exactly what each potion will do.” There was a slight smile in his voice when she looked up in surprise. “Your magic literally rises from your skin when you get emotional. It gives you away.”

Harry blinked at the dark sand she’d seen before were rising from her like little tendrils, moving to poke it, blinking when it wrapped around her finger and squeezed gently. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can you hear me?” The black sand seemed to pulse, twining around her finger to solidify as a black band around her left middle finger. 

Smiling, she didn’t see Snape stop, crashing into his back and falling back-... into a chair. Blinking, she looked down at where the black sand had created a chair. “Oh. Cool.”

Standing back up, the chair dissolved.

Snape was staring at her. “You-...  _ ‘Cool’ _ is all you can say to that?” She gave him a blank look and he rolled his eyes slightly, opening the double doors he’d stopped at. 

The room was large, a long intricate wood table lined with green and gold chairs that looked more expensive than her aunt’s house. The room was a mix of marble floors and decorations, rich greens and gold embellishments around the room. 

She- she wasn’t sure she could enter this room, much less sit-

“Harry.” It seems her internal debate had been noticed. “Come, sit down.” 

Immediately she moved forward, something easing in her chest now that the choice was out of her hands. Sinking into the chair, she instinctively scanned the room, stopping when she met the gaze of one Draco Malfoy.

The boy smiled. “Hello. I’m-”

“Malfoy. Draco.” She supplied, voice a whisper. “I know. You- the  _ other  _ you- got me beat up by your girlfriend because you called me a ‘slut’...” 

The boy blinked, shock the only thing on his face.

She cringed back into the seat. “Sorr-.”

But then the boy was laughing, eyes alight with humor. “Oh, Pansy would  _ love  _ you! I knew that you would be interesting!” A hand was extended across the table. “Call me Draco.”

Harry blinked, looking at the hand, and hesitantly pulling her lips into an imitation of a smile. “No offense, but I- I’d rather not shake your hand.” She immediately felt bad, pulling her knees up to her chest and picking nervously at her ragged nails. “I still want to be your friend, but- I just-...”

“That’s okay. My friend Theo has an issue with touching people too, but that’s because he’s slightly a snob. I hear you play the piano?”

Eyes glancing at where Marvolo was watching them with his vivid red eyes, she looked down at her plate and shrugged slightly.  _ Apparently the dragon prince had trouble keeping secrets. _

The man to her side huffed softly, before snapping twice. 

There was a loud crack, making Harry startle, but her panic abated at the image of the strange creature in front of her. “What can Mipsy be doing for Master?”

Her jaw clenched and she was out of her chair in a second, moving for the door. 

“Harry, they’re not slaves.” The amused tone made her stop, but she stood stiffly, only a few steps from the door. “They’re house elves. They survive off the magic that comes from the bond between them and their so called ‘master’. It’s all very consensual and two-sided. Please come sit back down.”

Turning, she looked directly at the creature. “Do you want to be here? Are you being hurt in any way? Have they ever made you do  _ anything  _ you don’t like?”

With a softer pop, the creature was suddenly in front of her. “Mipsy never bes mistreated. Mistress very kind, but Mispy bes very happy.”

Her breath hitched, sinking to her knees in front of the creature like a ragdoll, chest constricting. “No no no. Don’t call me that. I’m not- I would never- Please never call me that. I don’t ever want to be-”

“What I be calling yous?” The small elf tilted her head.

Her breathing was faster than normal, hands gripping at the cool tile under her. “Harry. Just Harry. Please just call me Harry?”

The elf looked worried, popping away and appearing a few seconds later. “Harry bes drinking this. It will calm yous.” 

Trusting the small elf implicitly, she threw back the potion like a shot, sighing softly when a feeling of  _ calm _ washed over her. “Thank you Mipsy.” She smiled at the little elf. “May I have a hug? I hear it’s something friends do, and I think we both need one of those.”

“I will hug Harry.” 

The elf moved to hug her lightly and Harry found herself smiling sadly. “Mipsy, can you show me to the room with the piano? I think i’ve had enough excitement for a few hours.” There was the feeling of being distorted, moved, and they were suddenly in the room next to the piano. Letting go, she dipped her head. “Thank you Mipsy.”

The elf bowed her head back. “I can get Harry breakfast?”

“I would like that, thanks.” Slowly standing up, she moved to the piano, only half noticing when a plate of food appeared. 

**~~~**

“You’re quite good at the piano… Self taught?”

Harry stiffened at the unfamiliar voice, fingers stuttering to a halt. 

There were footsteps, a man with messy hair moving to sit next to her, as if he didn’t notice her breathing hitch. “I only know how to play this.” Fingers moved to play Hot Cross Buns, an easy grin directed her way as the man looked up. “Sorry if I startled you, I was around the manor and heard the music, so I decided to check it out… Not many people actually play around here.”

The man had messy brown hair almost like Marvolo’s, but there was a hint of something playful in his eyes and he moved as if he didn’t have a care who she was or why she was here. 

He reminded her of Luna a bit in his eyes, in the caring gentleness behind the ‘crazy’.

Harry scooted over a bit more to make distance between her and the unfamiliar man. “I… My friend’s mom taught me. I- I can play for you if you want?” Something raw and broken in her chest wanted him to say yes, to ask her to play for him, to hear his words of praise.

“Sure. Play me something pretty, princess.”

Casting him a sideways glance at the nickname that only held an easy affection she didn’t hear often from strangers, she moved to play Für Elise, glad that she’d been able to practice over winter break. Looking over, she saw the man beside her had his eyes closed, a smile on his face.

Just as she was entering her least favorite part, concentrating fully on the piano, a voice spoke up. “For someone who hates physical contact, you sure make friends easily…”

Fingers stopping suddenly, she looked down at her hands fixedly, making sure not to move too soon in the fear that the man would decide she wasn’t worth all the nice treatment. “Sorry for leaving breakfast so suddenly, I-... I couldn’t do it.”

“I don’t mind one bit Harry. You have your limits, just like everyone else.” Marvolo moved into the room more and she could feel the man at her side straighten. “Barty, if you would give us a moment…”

Dipping his head, she was sent a mischievous smile as the other man stood up. “Of course My Lord. Princess.” With a wink, the man was walking out, the door clicking at his back.

Red eyes watched her closely, the man moving to lean against the piano smoothly. “You will need to be educated in our world. If you are who I think you are, then you have more power than even I could imagine...” Marvolo’s lips quirked into a small smile. “You may choose as you please, but you will pick to either stay here in this manor, or you can come live with me in my smaller and more secluded house. It might be better for your lack of love for… company.”

And there it was. 

The catch.

Marvolo had been her princely dragon so far- kind and caring- but she knew the behavior of men and how their sharp edges came out when you least expected it. 

“With three conditions.” Her voice was a whisper, pausing to see how he’d react, and when his eyes just colored with gentle amusement she continued tentatively. “Professor Snape heals me as much as he can, someone else lives with us, and anyone who is going to be around the house regularly makes some type of spell-promise-thing not to hurt me.”

There was a soft hum as the man seemed to mull this over. “I can agree with two of those, but do we really have to have another person?” At her wary glance, he huffed. “I tend not to like people in my house, but I suppose… How about Severus?”

She cringed slightly at the thought of seeing the intimidating professor every day. “I- um- who was the man that-... that sat with me?”

“Barty?” The man’s lips curled into a slight frown.

Harry looked down at her hands, fiddling with her sleeves.

A soft sigh. “Come now. Stop looking so distraught. I’ll  _ consider  _ talking to Barty, but either way, lunch is about to be served.”

She glanced at where her practically untouched breakfast was still sitting. “I’m- I don’t think I can eat without getting sick.” But she stood anyway, eyes meeting his. “You promise you’ll consider talking to- to him?”

The man dipped his head, not a hair out of place on his perfect head, and a smile curved his lips. “Yes. I will.” Holding the door open for her, the man started down the hall in front of her. “But first you will eat something.”

**~~~**

The brown-haired man in question was sitting at the large table and he smiled widely at seeing her. “Hey Princess!”

As if she had no control over her lips, they quirked, because it seemed the nickname quickly growing on her. Moving forward as quickly as she could, she flitted over to take the empty seat next to the man, glancing at him tentatively when she stopped behind the chair before diverting her eyes back to her hands again. “May I sit here?”

There was a pause, making her fiddle with her fingers.

A sigh to her side and Marvolo was moving to gracefully take the seat next to the one she was standing behind. “Sit down Harry.” 

“Yes sir.” She moved into the seat, grimacing at the slip of her tongue. Thankfully no one mentioned it, and food appeared on the table. She blinked at the magnificence of it all, before tucking her hands under her thighs. At least there looked enough for there to be left overs, so she wouldn’t be going hungry tonight. 

Hands moved to scoop some chicken and potatoes onto her plate and in shock she looked up at the man Marvolo had called ‘Barty’. He just smiled. “No need to be shy about your table manners. I’m probably much worse. Plus, you need to eat, you’re  _ way  _ too skinny Princess.”

Realizing she was gaping at him, she smiled thankfully. “Thank you sir.”

Barty laughed, taking a sip of bubbly liquid out of a fancy goblet. “Please don’t call me that. Makes me sound old, like my father or something.” He shivered as if that was his worst nightmare.

She found a laugh bubbling up from her lips, covering her mouth and ducking her head. When she looked back up, smile not entirely gone, the man was grinning cheekily as if making her laugh was the best thing he could have done. “At least you didn’t get your father’s uncontrollable hair.” 

“Oh? Is that why you wear it so long?” The man tilts his head in a way that’s so _Luna_ that her smile is wobbly when she responds. 

“I- It always grows back to this length, even my aunt tried to shave it all off.” 

There’s a soft hum from her other side. “Well it’s quite lovely. She should never have tried to cut it.”

Harry glances over to meet those intense red eyes, her smile more hesitant. “Thank you sir, I- I quite like it.” It’s a half truth, because sometimes she hated how easy it was to drag her around by it, but it was nice when she could shower and properly take care of it. 

Whatever Marvolo is about to say is cut off- there’s a hissing sound that makes the table around them stiffen and she spots a huge snake heading their way, but then suddenly the snake’s hisses aren’t hisses, as if adjusting to hearing a language you haven’t heard in so long.  _ “My Lord, I have finished my hunt and even though those white birds looked quite tasty, I followed your instructions and found some mice.” _

The red-eyed man nods, the snake winding up the chair and around his shoulders.  _ “Very good Nagini.” _ And that- he’s speaking the hissing english. 

She breathes out, eyes wide.  _ “All magic people speak to animals? That’s awesome!” _

Both man and snake and the table look at her like she did something horrible. Sinking lower in her chair she fidgets, flinching when she feels a weight on her shoulders, but relaxing when she realizes it’s the snake. The snake, who apparently is a female, winds around her shoulders and moves it’s head to look at her face.  _ “What an interesting speaker... so shy and still just a hatchling. Though, your magic is quite intoxicating.” _

_ “Speaker? What am I speaking?” _

There was a hissing laugh.  _ “Hatchling, you are speaking the tongue of the snakes, a rare gift that not many wizards can do.” _

Chancing a glance up, to see the table was still watching her, she moved to curl around the snake.  _ “So they can’t understand me?”  _ The snake bobbed it’s head, making her relax a bit, chewing a small bit of a potato to ease her stomach while enjoying the weight of the snake. She swallowed.  _ “Do you trust them, Miss Snake? It’s not that I am grateful, but I know that people aren’t nice when others are different and I- I really don’t want to be a burden. I’m sure if I thought hard enough of a way back home, I could go back.” _

_ “My Lord has been waiting for a bond mate that is a speaker, so he will not hurt you, and with him on your side no one else would dare question that.” _

Her smile was back tentatively.  _ “Marvolo, the dragon prince, come to protect his snake princess.”  _ Her giggle was muffled by her hand and she dipped her head to rub her forehead affectionately against the snake’s own head in a way that just felt right.  _ “What a funny dream this is...” _

There was a fond look in the snake’s eyes.  _ “Eat, Snake Princess. I will bite anyone who dares hurt you.” _

Again she giggled, not able to stop, this was all too funny.  _ Her  _ being a  _ princess _ , the handsome gentlemen surrounding her, the overprotective talking snake… She would miss this dream when she woke up, and she decided she would make the best of her time free from her miserable world.

**~~~**

She was laying on a marble slab with only a sheet over her body, Severus and Draco’s mother muttering over medial things, the only thing keeping her even somewhat centered is the snake that’s curled around her right arm with it’s diamond shaped head laying over the right side of her chest.

Nagini, her apparent protector, who hadn’t left her side since the night before. Apparently parseltongue speakers were incredibly rare, and the snake had deemed her unable to protect herself, therefore the clinginess.

The snake seemed to keep away most every one of what Nagini called Marvolo’s ‘minions’, except Barty, who shivered slightly whenever she spoke to the snake but still stayed close to her otherwise. She had appreciated both him and Marvolo, as they both made her feel more level-headed and less panicky.

Unfortunately, both had been kicked out of the room as soon as Narcissa (Draco’s mum) had told her to undress, even Snape leaving the room for a while. So she was stuck with talking to Nigini to keep her from hyperventilating. Strangely therapeutic, rambling to a snake about her home life as she tried to ignore the medical talk. So she talked about Luna and Rhonda and Hermione, about her vile Aunt, the disgusting headmaster, and her favorite types of books.

Nagini listened, eyes occasionally narrowing and hissing her displeasure at Harry's words, but nonetheless just let her rant.

Finally, after Narcissa finished rubbing in some lotiony ointment to help fade her scars, she was made to dress again and was being given a lecture on what potions to take when. Nodding and making a mental note of what the woman was saying, she glanced over to see the three men all talking lowly in the corner, glancing over every once and awhile.

When she stood, Nagini on her shoulders, the three were still in their discussion. Sighing, she slipped out of the room, wandering down the hall and petting the snake.

She'd found a glass door to a grassy field when a familiar voice made her freeze. 

“And where are  _ you  _ going, sweetheart?”

Slowly looking back at Fenrir Greyback, she studied him, not entirely sure if she could trust him but also knowing that she could from the way her magic was still sleeping happily in her chest, rumbling like a purring cat. “I wanted some sun.” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him with hesitant eyes. “You can come with me if you must.”

The man looked surprised, before grinning almost wolfishly “I’m afraid I must.”

“Dragon Prince and his Wolf Knight.” She muttered before pushing the door open and stepping out, sighing at the feeling of the sun on her skin.  _ “Such wonderful weather. It’s quite wonderful, right Nagini?” _

The snake on her shoulder hissed, pleased that they were outside, her yellow eyes blinking slowly up at Harry.  _ “Yes hatchling. The sun is quite nice.” _

She hummed, closing her eyes and tilting back her head a bit, opening her arms as if to absorb the sun. Idly she head the door open again, and the muttering of voices, but they were all pushed to the back of her brain as she enjoyed the warmth surrounding her.

“Hey princess, you want some flowers?” 

Letting a single eye fall open, she immediately felt her magic pulse, knocking the man’s hand away from the flowers he’d found and wrapping around his waist to pull him away from it. Barty laid on the grass at her feet, eyes wide, and she blanched. “S- sorry, just-... The bulbs of those flowers, tulips, can cause painful rashes and sometimes respiratory problems if the pollen is inhaled…”

A laugh made her look up, the brown-haired man grinning widely. “You’re like a walking dictionary! Where’d you learn that?”

Taking a second to consider answering that question she felt her lips quirk as she shrugged, worrying at the ends of her sleeves. “I memorized a book on poisonous plants when hiding out in Hoggard’s library.”

“Wicked! What’s your poison of choice?”

Letting a small grin stretch her face, she looked down at the man. “Strychnine. It’s a lethal poison that overrides the nervous system until the victim dies of either respiratory failure or exhaustion.”

Marvolo moved forward, helping Barty up- who looked like that man had given him the biggest praise he’d ever heard- before eyeing her. “An appropriate choice. Strychnine beans can be ground down to a powder and slipped to the person easily… Though that does not tell me why you were out here in the first place.” 

Wilting under the power of his intense red eyes, she pulled at her sleeves nervously, nodding and looking down at her hands. “S- sorry sir…”

With a long sigh, the man took a step forward, before seeming to think twice when she flinched back. “Harry, I’m not upset, just merely worried. There are a lot of… less than friendly people that live around this area and you could have gotten hurt.”

“I-... Fenrir came with me?” Her voice was small, even as she tried to protest, chest clenching tightly at not being able to feel the sun.

_ “The hatchling needed the sun. Little one is much to tense- the sun was helping with that until your stupid humans showed up!”  _ Nagini hissed violently, making everyone in the vicinity step back except for Marvolo.  _ “The hatchling needs a nest somewhere safe! She is much too vulnerable here!”  _

Marvolo hissed back to the snake.  _ “She will nest safely Nagini, but not here. Not with the… others coming and going.” _ Then the man’s lips tugged into a slight frown as he turned to Barty. “In compliance with Harry’s requests, in order to take her somewhere safer and less populated, there is to be a third person living with her and I. She seems to find your company acceptable- will you vow that you will not harm her and will not touch Harry without her explicit consent?”

The man with the messy hair blinked as if stunned, his eyes meeting hers- to which she looked away quickly- and he held up his right hand. “I vow on my magic never to hurt Harry and that I will not touch her without her explicit consent, so mote it be.”

The feeling of a thin blanket settled around her shoulders for a second.

Marvolo nodded, raising his hand as he turned to look at where she was shifting uncomfortably, repeating the same words as Barty had. Then he switched to the hissing language.  _ “You have your vows and are healed, are you alright with leaving now?” _

She nodded, glancing up at where Greyback and Snape were watching them. 

_ “You will have to hold onto me- we are going to travel to my house magically.” _

Eyes darting to where Marvolo was holding out his hand, she bit at the inside of her cheek, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. She was pants at initiating contact. Letting out a small breath of air, she moved, quickly grabbing his hand and waiting for the disgust that usually came with touching another human being. 

Warmth.

There was a soft chuckle and she cracked open an eye to see Marvolo’s lips quirked up. “Barty.”

The other man linked arms with Marvolo before he smiled crookedly at her, holding out his hand- and, curious- she took it, furrowing her eyebrows when there was no type of sick feeling that came with the contact.

Before she could puzzle out  _ why  _ exactly she wasn’t getting the same feeling as she did everyone but her close friends, the world blurred around her. It was as if she was being compressed into a marble, tumbled around in a washing machine, and then spit out onto hard ground.

She landed, stumbling and sinking to the ground, head spinning. 

Barty moved forward, but Marvolo stopped him. “Do you want to lose your magic you fool?!” Then, eyes softening, he turned to her. “Harry… may we help you up?”

Shaking her head, she waited for the world to stop spinning. 

_ “You should accept the help, hatchling. You need to have contact- it will make you feel better- like the warm sun.”  _ Nagini brushed against her cheek fondly.

Making a soft noise of discontent, she pushed herself up, stepping away from the two men as she eyed them. Her voice was a soft hiss.  _ “I don’t like-... They don’t-... I can’t-”  _ Making a noise of frustration, she tugged at her sleeves, wrapping her arms around herself.  _ “They don’t make me sick!” _

The snake looked at her with curious eyes.  _ “I don’t understand hatchling.” _

Scrunching up her nose she gripped tighter at her sides.  _ “People- touch makes me sick. Like eating raw eggs. But- but they- It’s not normal Nagini!”  _ Turning on her heel, she stalked a little ways away, sitting in the grass and bringing her knees to her chest.  _ “Can we just sit here? It’s my dream- if I don’t want to touch them, then I don’t have to.” _

A hissing laugh.  _ “I will not push you. I like your fire hatchling. No one should be able to have power over you.” _

Harry closed her eyes, humming softly and choosing to enjoy the warmth of the sun instead of answering.

**~~~**

The ‘house’ that Marvolo lived in had the air of a woodsy cottage, but the space of half the Malfoy’s enormous Manor. She would have not classified it as a normal ‘house’... but to each their own.

Finally gaining enough composure to let Nagini direct her inside, she found Marvolo sitting at a large desk writing something while Barty was sitting comfortably in a chair reading. Both looked up when she stopped in the doorway. Barty gave her his signature crooked smile. “Enough sun Princess?”

Nodding slightly, she worried at her lip, before finally asking what Nagini had encouraged her to. “May I-...” She shifted her weight, but continued, Nagini’s words of no one hurting her here urging her on. “Do you have a piano I can play? Or- or may I read something?”

Both men looked at each other and Marvolo put down what looked like a feathered pen. “Harry…”

She cringed, expecting a reprimand.

“The house is yours to explore. Anything but the items in this office is yours to do as you please with, and even then, I will allow you to do as you wish with the items in my office as long as you confirm it with me first. There are some potentially dangerous things I have collected over the years and I do not want you to get hurt.” Marvolo’s red eyes were piercing as they looked into hers. “You are the guest here Harry, not a prisoner.”

At least the people in her dream were consistently nice, unlike-

Cutting that thought off sharply, hands clenching, she felt her lips wobble precariously. “Th- thank you… I- um- I want to take a bath? Can someone…” She drifted off, unsure of what to say.

“I’ll show you to your rooms... and yours as well Barty.” Marvolo stood, moving by her calmly even as she took a step back, and Barty winked as he moved after the man. 

Following the two, she stopped a ways away when Marvolo gestured to a door. “These are your rooms Harry.” He pointed to a door just down at the end of the hall. “Those are my rooms, and Barty…” Marvolo turned back, pointing to a set of doors they’d just passed. “You may stay there.”

Barty dipped his head. “Thank you, M-... Marvolo.” 

Looking between the two, she moved forward slowly, glancing back as she opened the door. The room behind the door- unlike what she was fearing- were not slick with blood or anything like her room back in her Aunt’s house. 

With soft sea green walls and large windows lighting up the room, she sucked in a breath at the large bed, moving forward to run a hand over the sheets that ran through her fingers like silk. Padding to a doorway close by, she made a soft noise of surprise at the glass-paneled shower and the large sunken bathtub. 

Looking back at where the two men were watching her, she bit her lip to keep the soft sob from escaping, ducking her face to wipe at her eyes. She’d keep herself in this dream as long as she could- imagine herself here when she finally woke up. This was far better than her other dreams. 

Her voice was hoarse. “I-... thank you.”

Barty looked worried, but Marvolo just nodded. “We will be in my office if you need us.” Both looking at her with somewhat sad eyes, they left, shutting the door behind them. 

**~~~**

Harry found it quite easy to adjust herself to this version of heaven. 

She could hide herself in her room without being bothered when she felt as if she was shaking apart- her ‘magic’ swirling around her viciously- read to her heart’s content in the library that took up half the house, play piano as much she wanted, garden when she felt like it, wear warm comfortable clothing...

Some days she’d join the other two in Marvolo’s study, reading as they talked silently or even engage them in conversation about the books she was reading, but other days she could hide away without seeing either of the men at all.

And yet…

It was uncomfortably… easy.

Even when she had been staying with the Weasleys or at Luna’s house she’d always felt  _ weird.  _ As if she was imposing. Like she didn’t belong. 

But here- here there was no such feeling.

It was easy and it make her uncomfortable. She’d gone so long with being ready to curl into a ball at the first sign of the other shoe dropping- _ because it would always drop, that was just common sense _ \- that it made her antsy to think… maybe there was no shoe here?

Maybe, in this weird paradise she’d obviously thought up, she was actually safe?

“Harry?”

Her head snapped up.

Marvolo raised an eyebrow at her (she’d stopped flinching days ago, knowing that only meant he was curious), tilting his head, red eyes watching her closely. “You haven’t turned a single page for almost twenty minutes. Is the book not interesting?” 

Blinking, she looked down at the book on how the people of this heaven of hers acted- titled _ ‘The Wizarding World for Muggleborns’ _ \- before looking back up at the dragon prince and shaking her head. “No, it’s quite fascinating… I- I just got lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh? And what’s the Princess thinking?” Barty sent her a grin from where he was taking notes on one of Marvolo’s large tomes from the shelves of the office that she wasn’t allowed to touch.

Staring at him, she chewed her lip, wondering just how far she could press here and still be safe. Some part of her, the part that was so unsteady with the lack of walls and rules, was begging her to test those boundaries and see just how safe she was. To find out just how far the lines of this gilded cage ran so that she could settle comfortably in the middle.

“Princess?” Barty’s eyebrows were pulled together, as if worried.

She hummed, blinking and looking down at her book. How best to test those boundaries? She found her voice, before looking back up, fixing her eyes on the man that she instinctively knew would hurt her less if this came back to bite her in the ass. “Barty… can you brush my hair?”

The room was silent.

The floppy-haired man looked at Marvolo, then back to her, before chuckling slightly. “Sure thing Princess. Why don’t you go get a brush?”

Nodding, she stood, closing her book and setting it to the side of her chair. Grabbing her brush from her room, she paused at the doorway of the office, looking between the two for a long second before grabbing her book, padding over and sitting on the floor in front of Barty’s chair. Holding up the brush, she looked back at him out of the corner of her eye. “I give you permission to touch me, for now.”

She half hoped to find out this dream held no downsides, that she could trust the man with the friendly smile, and yet… she knew that it was not possible. Everyone hurt her in the end.

Tensing when the brush was taken from her hand, she dug her nails into her knees, squeezing her eyes shut. Soon now...

Feeling a soft tugging on her hair she tensed further.

“I’m not used to brushing out long hair, so tell me if it’s not comfortable Princess.” Then there was the feeling of bristles running over her scalp methodically. 

She felt her lips wobble slightly. Was this some sick game? Taking his time with hurting her?

But there was nothing. Just the soothing repeating movement of someone brushing out her hair. 

There was a sharp tug and she tensed again, only for a soft curse to break her out of it, and she looked back slightly in surprise. The man smiled at her sheepishly. “I- uh- sorry about that. This one knot caught the brush and…”

Slowly, she untensed her hands from where they had been making little crescent marks on her knees. “Let me.” Watching him closely so she could react accordingly if he chose to use this against her, she moved slowly, taking the brush from his hands. The brief contact held nothing but warmth and she hummed to herself, looking at her hands with a frown before packing that train of thought away, looking back at where Barty was watching her. “If you start at the ends, then it’s easier and it’s less likely to get caught in knots.” 

Tilting her head so the hair fell over her shoulder, she swiftly untangled the knot, brushing until it ran through smoothly. 

Looking back, she met the brown eyes, offering up an unanswered question.

A hand was extended, slow enough that she stayed mostly relaxed, taking the brush from her hands again gently. “Is the whole ‘touching’ thing still applicable?”

Looking at him, wondering where the angels that had made her version of heaven had found such a man, she nodded slowly. “For now.”

Barty smiled softly, hand moving forward to gently raise a section of her hair so he could brush it out. His voice held a grin. “It’s actually quite soothing, brushing out your hair like this.”

“Strange man.” She muttered, but let her back untense so that she was leaning against his legs, feeling nothing but warmth. Not about to think about  _ why _ , she chose to instead open her book and immerse herself in reading again, ignoring the huff of laughter from behind her and the red eyes watching her from across the room.

It seemed that for now at least, she would let herself trust Barty- if just in the slightest- but made sure to retract her consent before she went to go hide in her rooms for a while, the physical contact having left her jittery and unnerved.

**~~~**

So… Marvolo.

It was almost a week of keeping her interactions with the two to a minimum, that she stopped in the doorway of the office, brush and a different book on ‘herbology’ clutched in her arms. Like usual, both looked up to watch her in that way of theirs that she normally would have hated but instead just left her feeling… warm.

Worrying at her lip, she moved slowly towards the large desk that Marvolo was always at. Finally meeting the vibrant red eyes, she held out the brush, tilting her head. 

Amusement colored the ruby eyes. “Are you giving this to me?”

They both knew what she was trying to imply, but this was the reason she’d gone to Barty first. Marvolo took more  _ effort _ , while also holding more potential backlash. He liked her to communicate with him though her words, whereas Barty was more okay with her preference of silent gestures.

Setting the brush down, she drew her hand back to hug the book to her chest. “Can- can you brush my hair?”

Red eyes watched her for a long second, before lips turned up in a rare half-smile. “Certainly.” The man stood, moving from behind his desk to sit in the chair she usually occupied. “Do you wish for me to get a stool?”

“I will sit on the floor. Thank you.” She slowly moved forward, sinking to the floor in front of him and fiddling with her book for a while before taking a deep breath. “I give you permission to touch me, for now.”

There was a pause in which all the muscles in her body were slowly tensing, chest constricting- before soft humming seemed to startle her out of her thoughts of impending doom.

Long fingers brushed against her forehead and she tensed once more, but they just moved to raise a section of her hair so he could run the brush though it in the way she’d shown Barty.

As the humming continued, she moved just a bit to glance back at the man, whose vivid eyes caught hers with a thin smile. “Did we pass your test to your satisfaction?”

Fighting the urge to get out, run back to her room and lock the door, she watched him for a long moment as he just continued to brush out her hair. Not sure how to best answer that, she slowly pulled away, knowing that she was uncomfortably vulnerable like this. Ruby eyes watched her, turning hard and cold as she slowly moved away- scrambling to her feet when she got far enough away.

“Why are you so afraid of us? You have seen nothing but kindness!” Marvolo sounded frustrated, fingers curling tightly around her brush. He stood, eyes flashing. “We have done nothing to warrant your- your  _ suspicion _ !”

Jolting back at the harsh tone, she felt her eyes begin to tear up, hands curling tightly around her book, back pressed against the far wall. Eyes darting from where Marvolo looked like he wanted to hurt her, to where Barty was frowning deeply, she felt a hot tear slip down her cheek.

Both men froze.

Sobbing slightly, she shook her head, voice shaking. “I- I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t understand this dream- your rules are strange, you’re too nice- it makes no sense.” Wiping away her tears, she closed her eyes, praying-  _ begging-  _ to whatever god would hear her. “Just- just take me back- I can make it another year,  _ please _ .”

But there was no change, no reality altering, no magic, no waking up.

Taking in a shuddering breath, she opened her eyes, her vision slightly blurry with tears.

“Harry, what do you mean by-” Marvolo took a step forward, freezing when she cowered back.

“I- I take- take back my- my consent.” Getting the words out as fast as she could, she finally succumbed to the instinct that had been tugging at her since he’d asked her that question and ran from the room.

**~~~**

Nagini found her, still laying in the soft blankets of the bed, three days later.  _ “Hatchling… you must move. You must eat.” _

Turning over to her other side, pulling the blankets around herself more.  _ “I’m ‘nesting’. Go away.” _

_ “You cannot nest alone forever, little one. Nesting will inevitably need to involve another- you need the comfort of your bondmates.” _ The slow, heavy weight of the snake slid over her waist, diamond head turning so the yellow eyes could find hers.  _ “Staying away will only continue to hurt all of you. They will not enter this room out of pride, but you need to leave, if only to eat something.” _

Groaning, she pulled herself out of the bed slowly, looking half-heartedly at the closet.  _ “I don’t want to be here.” _ Nagini hissed wordlessly, nudging her forward with her diamond head. Reluctantly she pushed around the clothes- skirts and leggings making her frown. “I just want a hoodie and jeans. Is that too much to ask for?” 

Seeing a tendril of the dark sand that the others thought was her ‘magic’ creep out, it touched a long skirt and a blouse, and she smiled when they changed into a worn pair of jeans and a dark blue hoodie that looked a bit too big for her. 

Perfect.

Moving Nagini to wrap around her shoulders- the snake seeming to be wary of the unfamiliar clothes until she found them to be soft- Harry moved to the door. Taking a deep breath, she made her way into the hall, padding towards the kitchen, hands shoved in her pockets.

_ “Good hatchling. Now get something to eat. You are much too thin.” _

Huffing slightly Harry turned the corner, freezing up when he saw the two men sitting at the large kitchen table on the other side of the counter from her. Looking away when she felt their eyes on her, she moved for the refrigerator slowly and pulled out some eggs and bacon.

Nagini flicked her tail.  _ “Get some cheese and bread. You need the subtanance hatchling or you’ll never be able to have hatchlings of your own.” _

Doing as the snake said, she grabbed a bowl, cracking the eggs with practiced ease.  _ “I won’t be able to have children either way Nagini, but fine, I’ll give in if just because it actually sounds good.” _

_ “What do you mean! You must have hatchlings to carry on Slytherin’s line!” _

Not about to get into the fact she didn’t even know who that was, she shook her head.  _ “Leave it ‘Gini. That’s one of the things that we don’t talk about.”  _ The snake gave her usual hiss of displeasure, but Harry was too tired to comment on it, putting the eggs to the side on a plate and starting to cook the bacon. 

“I am… sorry.”

Tensing at the low voice, she felt her magic rise to her skin in response, curling around her arms like bands. Not looking back, as if she could pretend they weren't there, she shrugged just slightly.  _ “‘Gini, do you think the house elves would get me books from the library? I think I might go back to bed after I eat.” _

If a snake could look unamused, this one did. “ _ Hatching, you must not nest alone. It is making you worse- your dreams grow worse every day!” _

She didn't feel like acknowledging that subject.  _ “I'm not alone. I have you.” _

“Harry. Princess... I didn't mean to frighten you. I realize my impatience is something I need to work on, but I just want- I want you to be open with us.” Marvolo spoke up again.

Nagini bumped her head against Harry’ cheek imploringly.

With a slight sigh, she placed another piece of bacon on the hot pan, watching it sizzle. "I am not good at… people." Her voice was quiet and she didn't dare turn around, but somehow she knew they could hear her. "I've always had rules. Never use names. Never look anyone in the eyes unless told. Don't speak unless told. Make the meals. Remember your manners." By now her voice was wobbly and tight in emotion. "But you don't have rules. Not ones you say anyways. And- and I don’t know what to do."

There was a lull of quiet where she shifted her weight and made the bacon.

"I expect you to take care of yourself, so you must eat something every day. If you are reading you will do it in either the library or my office, but the rules set about the items in my office are staying the same." Marvolo's voice was hard but with every sentence she relaxed a bit. 

Nothing bad so far, all the rules were things she could handle.

"And finally, no leaving the grounds without either I or Barty."

Reasonable.

Safe.

_ Trustworthy _ .

Harry relaxed her clenched hands, nodding slightly as she finished putting the bacon on a small plate. "I-... I can do that."

_ "I told you hatchling, no one here will hurt you." _

Huffing slightly, she slowly turned and without meeting either of the eyes watching her, moved to an empty seat at the table.  _ "There will be a time when I believe that, but that time is not now… not until I know why I'm having this dream in the first place." _

Marvolo's hand clenched slightly around a piece of silverware and she wondered idly if the man knew more than he was letting on.

**~~~**

Even with rules in place it still took her a few more days to be convinced into going to the office to read.

Slowly, she knocked on the door.

"Enter." Marvolo's voice was cold, but when she peeked her head in, the red eyes looked almost surprised to see her. "Harry… I didn't expect to see you."

Glancing at where her chair was, she met the curious gaze of Snape. 

"Hey professor." She tilted her head. "Mind if I sit by you?"

The man rodded slightly, waving his hand. "Do as you please."

Cold, cool, and unchanging. Yes, she trusted Snape no matter the strangeness of the dream. He was the  _ only _ one who she trusted fully not to hurt her.

Padding over quietly, she sat down in front of  **her** his chair, leaning back into the stability of his legs. "You said you work with potions, right professor? Do you mind- the reactions are quite interesting in that their cellular composition would not cause such things to happen normally, so is it more the magic invested in such ingredients that are being used or the things themselves?"

The room was quiet and she looked up from her book as she realized that was probably the most she'd ever spoken to one person. 

Twisting slightly, she saw the man behind her was looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Knowing the interactions of muggle science with magic is quite a high level of knowledge- perhaps it would be better for you to brew something first."

"I did already. The house elves gave me supplies and everything."

She heard a low huff from behind her, but even as amused as the professor seemed, Marvolo didn't sound happy. "Harry… what did you brew?"

Fiddling with her hands, picking at her nails, she raised a shoulder and dropped it in a mimicry of a shrug. "The uh Elixir to Induce Euphoria? I figured that was the least dangerous thing that-"

"Stupid child!" She was jostled as the man behind her stood abruptly, but she only curled into a ball so she wasn’t kicked by the man stepping over her, used to Snape's moods. "That is a seventh level potion! Not for beginners! Stand up and take me to your brewing equipment right this instant!"

Standing, she only smiled at the man. "Good to see some things never change Professor." 

Dark eyes glared at her. "Potion. Now."

Snickering slightly, she moved down the hall quickly, the man (and assumedly the other two) following her. "I remember when you caught me using the supplies from the chemistry lab to try to make a poison for the Headmaster- you didn't seem all that concerned other than for your lab, and in fact you were the one who gave me that book on poisons, saying that natural stuff was harder to detect." By now they were at her rooms, which had briefly been turned into a potions lab.

Shed kept the window open, her magic filtering any of the harmful chemicals out of the air around her as she slept through.

"New rule." Marvolo didn't seem pleased in the slightest, even if the three men were looking at the setup in a mix of awe, frustration, and worry. "Brewing will be done with another of the people in this house, you will check with me before you take _any_ sort of potion, and you will use the labs not _your_ _rooms_."

Snape turned to her, holding up one of the vials. "You made this?"

The thick gold liquid sloshed slightly. She nodded. "I was a bit disappointed at the simplistic nature, as I am used to working with equations and algorithms in order to get the final product, but this was soothing in a way that chemistry is challenging. Like cooking."

The three looked at her with unreadable eyes.

Then Barty snorted. "If this is how well you do potions, I wanna try some of your cooking."

Her smile was only there for a second before she shifted uncomfortably. This was her room, her bed was right behind her- no one was supposed to be in here. This was her space- the space that she held private-

A hand grabbed hers and she was pulled from the room, the door shutting behind her. "I think… the house elves can move the potion supplies out of your room." Snape let go of her as soon as he could, and she leaned against the wall while steadying her breathing.

This was a  _ good  _ day. She was determined to keep it that way without needing to hide away.

"And what is one of these formulas you know?"

Only startling a little at the man's velvet voice, she took a deep breath, losing herself in talking out the chemical process of creating an effective bomb- something she'd learned from a less than savory source that had been working as a janitor even since he'd gotten out of prison. Though Lupin was admittedly a wonderful teacher, once she knew enough about the subject she got as far as she could from his hungry stares.

Slowly she could breathe again.

"-acid... I- uh- it's not an exact science and I am sure I wouldn't be able to make any type of weapon that could kill more than 3 people maximum, but it's a fairly interesting subject…" She drifted off at the faces staring at her. 

A potion was held out to her. "Calming drought."

Taking it with a dip of her head, she threw it back, barely tasting it as the wave of immediate  _ soothing  _ ran through her. Passing back the vial, she danced through the small gap between the men and started down the hall. "This was fun and everything- but I have a book to read."

Settling herself in front of the chair that used to be hers with her book, she didn't look up until shiny black dress shoes stopped in front of her.

Glancing up into those vibrant red eyes, she saw that not only had Snape taken a different chair to the side, but that Marvolo had a brush in his long elegant fingers. "May I brush out your hair?"

Harry had just thrown her inky locks into a ponytail, not wanting to deal with them, but she was still basking in  _ calmness,  _ and the growing moon flowers that she thought she'd lost forever ached to have  _ someone _ treat her like she was special. So even as the black spiky flowers of hopelessness tried to strangle her, she nodded slowly. "I… I give you consent to touch me. For now." Nodding, the man moved to sit in the chair, long fingers gently moving to the ponytail. Instinct took over, hand grabbing his before he could take hold of her hair. “I- um- sorry- let me.” Nimbly slipping her fingers under the band, she eased her thick hair out to lay across her shoulders and slid the elastic band onto her wrist. 

“What is that?”

Glancing back, she looked at her wrist. “A hairband?”

The man hummed. “A muggle invention? Most women of _ magical heritage _ use pins.”

If she noticed a slight bias in the man’s voice, she didn’t mention it even if her lips curled up slightly, and she nodded. “I’m sure they do. Rubber was invented in the late 1830’s and with what I’ve seen so far, there aren’t many things that you wizards have that are of non-magical origin. What you have that are muggle mostly stop about the 1700’s… what happened to create that split? The witch trials? Or something more?”

Barty perked up across the room. “The witch trials were the main point of contention, but even as the Wizarding world seeked out the muggle world multiple times to try to make peace, everytime we do the muggles come back with worse reactions. Hence the reason for the Statute of Secrecy, which was instituted in 1689 and put fully into effect in 1692 in order to hide the existence of magic from the muggles.”

“Ah. So you’re a history buff, I see...” At the man’s quizzical look, she laughed slightly. “It means you like history. The only thing with that, is you’re missing a whole part of history that hasn’t been told. The non-magical side. We’ve done amazing things- invent the radio, camera, phones that can fit in your pocket, we’ve even gone to the moon! Hell other than the weapons of mass destruction, it’s beautiful! We’re even close to creating artificial intelligence!”

The hand in her hair tightened just a bit and she froze. 

Marvolo’s voice was low, verging on a hiss. “First of all, you are a witch, not one of those filthy  _ muggles _ . Second, ladies do not curse.”

Waiting- still as she could make herself be- until his hand left her hair, she scrambled back. Standing hastily and starting for the door, she paused at the last second, her anger overtaking her fear. “Do not think that I am  _ anything  _ like  _ you folks _ . My magic is separate from me and either way- why would I want to be part of a racist, sexist society that is based off the same ideals the nazis held? And finally?  _ Fuck you. _ ” 

Then she ran from the room, hearing a loud shattering sound follow her. “Come back here  _ this instant _ !” 

Shutting herself in her room, she closed her eyes, even as the sound of angry footsteps got closer. “Please- please please… get me out of here?”

And just as the door flew open, furiously vibrant eyes meeting hers, the world distorted around her.

**~~~**

Auntie wasn’t happy with her absence.

Nor the clothes she was wearing.

Nor the lack of bruises decorating her skin.

And with still three weeks left of her summer, Harry laid on the red-stained mattress and closed her eyes against the rough hands touching her and let her mind drift to the soothing humming that Marvolo would do absentmindedly when he was brushing her hair, the way that Barty smiled when he was teasing her, the proud look in Snape’s eyes when he’d seen her potion.

She thought it better, living in the real world.

But here the small moonflowers had shriveled almost immediately. Here she had to see Xeno every few days, and she’d almost thrown up when he called her ‘Hars’ the same way Luna used to do. 

Here she was so, so very  _ hurt, broken,  _ and  _ lonely. _

Sometimes hungry would mix in with those. 

Starving.

The first week was painful- the bruises new on her healed skin, the hunger pains worse after having eaten semi-regularly, the knife marks cutting into new flesh. But she got used to it. Because was there really any other way to live?

Only eleven months until she turned 18.

**~~~**

Harry was a late bloomer. 

The other girls had grown into breasts and having periods by age 12 or 13? Harry didn’t develop breasts until 15 and still, they were never that big, much to the teasing of the other girls in school. She was shorter, with a petite structure- _though part of that was_ _from being treated like a dog she guessed_ \- and big green eyes. 

Pretty.

Unique.

A  _ ‘rare specimen’ _ . 

She was talked about by others as a piece of jewelry or some other object.

But that, she guessed, was okay with her. Because didn’t being human mean being able to do things like have children? Her friends told her being infertle, sterile, wasn’t a bad thing- but with the way that was what had led to her aunt pimping her out to men that had no cares about how much they hurt her- she knew that they were wrong.

Her seventh year at Hoggards was a lesson in being silent.

Apathetic.

She didn’t care anymore. She’d perfected how to block out what was happening to her so expertly- memories of red eyes and kind smiles creating an impenetrable barrier around her mind, and she used it to her advantage.

Dumbldore was boring- there was no real threat in his ‘lessons’- not when she could think up new potions that could kill him without a trace while he touched her.

So when she got back from Hoggard’s, with clothes she’d stolen from the girls that liked to bully her and money she’d pickpocketed from the guys that had cornered her for a rough snog, her aunt blew a gasket.

That was how she found herself lying on the floor, bleeding out.

**~~~**

The knife hadn’t felt all that bad going in.

Okay that was a lie- it had felt like she was being stabbed with a blade of fire, slow and torturous- but still, she thought that the removal had been oh so much worse. Muscle and skin clinging to the blade as if her body didn’t want it to leave, it was pulled from her with a wet sound that was covered by the scream she’d given. Even with the hand of the man covering her mouth, her scream was something broken and full of pain.

Then she was left to clutch at her side weakly, blood spilling out of her, staining her clothes and the floor around her. Wet and sluggish and warm, she was covered in the seeping red liquid that she knew was keeping her alive. 

There was nothing she could do. She’d already pressed a bundle of fabric in a hope someone had heard her scream and that she’d be saved, but it was all very blurry the more she bled out and it felt like the world was spinning.

A tall figure leaned over her- entirely in black, but the voice was raspy, like ice cracking.  _ “So you find yourself once again trying to cross into my domain… did I not put you here to keep you safe from the people who would hurt you Little Mistress? Were you not supposed to live a life for yourself? See the world?”  _ There was only humor in the voice and she wondered if the man couldn’t see the blood seeping into the floorboards around her. _ “So… what shall I do with you now?” _

“Mar- marvolo…”

A laugh like the rattle of bones.  _ “Ah. Yes. Marvolo… I had not expected you to be able to cross dimensions so early in your life- But then again, as you seem to like to flirt with my relm, I guess being a quick learner is good.”  _ A ice cold hand brushed a piece of hair out of her face.  _ “I will take you somewhere safer then… I can’t have my Mistress die on me so soon, can I?” _

The world distorted and she heard a few startled voices, a yell of her name- before she felt her eyes fall closed, voice a low whisper. “Thank yo-….”

**~~~**

Everything ached.

But then again… she remembered losing a  _ lot _ of blood, so she guessed that was accurate.

Slowly blinking, she locked eyes with magnificently vibrant red ones. "You were minutes away from dying." Marvolo's voice was soft, more cautious than she'd heard before, even if his eyes were burning with something dangerous. "And I had to let _someone_ _else_ heal you and carry you here because I could not touch you."

There was a pause when she moved her hand to where she knew she should feel pain, but instead there was… nothing. Moving the blanket aside and hiking up her shirt, she stared at smooth unblemished skin. "Oh..."

"Severus healed not only the knife wound in your torso, but sixteen cigarette burns, two cuts on your inner thigh and multiple bruises." The red eyes seemed to glow as the man leaned forward. "I find you both very... _ fascinating _ and  _ valuable _ to me, so understand when I say this I am not joking: if you leave here again for that long- I will find out where you go and rip that place brick from brick to bring you back here."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Is that… a rule?"

The man stood, straightening his impeccable attire, face that of an angel carved from marble. "No. It is a  _ promise _ ." Then with a stiff nod, the man let himself out of the room.

Relaxing into the soft bed, she stared at the ceiling. Marvolo didn't seem to be one to make promises lightly, so… she guessed she was living here then.

Maybe it would not be as bad as she feared, after all- was this not her dream world?

**~~~**

A bad dream found her up early, flour on her hands and shorts, hair tied up so it wouldn't get in her way.

"What're you making?" A voice startled her from her cutting and she swung around only for a large hand to catch her wrist and gently take the knife from her hand. Greyback raised an eyebrow, slowly setting the knife on the counter. "You sure are jumpy, young one."

Huffing, Harry took a deep breath and leaned against the counter. "Bad dreams. Sorry. What time is it anyway?"

"Five in the morning." The man looked at her for a long second. "I could give you a shoulder message if it would help? Some'ah the women in the pack say that it helps to ease stress."

Tired and not about to pass up a back massage, she nodded, her black magic reaching out to put what looked like a stasis charm on the pastry dough. "Yeah, sounds good."

The man made a rumbling sound, moving over to the parlor and sitting down on the sofa sideways, patting the spot in front of him.

Slowly she sat down, eyeing him. "Touch me in any way inappropriate and my magic will cut both your hands off, Marvolo's knight or not."

With a short barking laugh, the man leaned forward and warm strong hands moved to roll the tense muscles of her shoulders. "Don't worry. I have no desire to be gutted by my Lord nor Crouch." 

Humming softly in a way of responding, she felt her eyes growing heavier with the warmth of the soothing hands. "No… touch…" Blinking slowly, she curled up on the sofa, head resting on the man's warm thigh.

**~~~**

"And  _ why _ is Harry sleeping on you?" 

The voice was quiet but deadly and she yawned, reaching up to rub at her eyes, before tapping at the leg her head was resting on. "Time?"

Another, less angry voice spoke up. "Seven thirty, Princess."

With a soft groan, she emphasized her irritation by sinking her long nails into the leg she had nearby, ignoring the low growl it got her. "Too early. Go back to bed." Then she turned, curling up once more.

"Move Greyback. I called you here for a reason and that  _ doesn't _ include being a  _ pillow _ ."

With a slight ruffle of her hair that got a hiss from somewhere in the distance, the man moved and she whined. "Sorry young one. I have things to do."

Then she was left, cold and uncomfortable. Eyes sliding open just slightly, she glared at where Barty and Marvolo were standing. "One of you gets to be my pillow or I poison your food."

Looking at each other, Marvolo stalked over, pausing and staring down at her. "And do I have permission to-"

"Yes!" She snapped. In a swift movement, she was drawn into strong arms, eyes going wide. "Wha-"

"Both of us have things to do, so you can sleep in the office if you would like company or I can take you to your room."

So very tired, she just mumbled 'company' and 'Barty too' before burrowing her face into the crook of his elbow.

When she woke again, she was curled up with her head in Barty's lap while she was curled around Marvolo, hand fisted in the edge of Barty's shirt as if she had tried to stop him from leaving. Slowly uncurling her fingers, she blinked and looked up.

Barty smiled at her, Marvolo's eyes fixed on some paper resing on her hip. "Good morning princess."

Red eyes looked over at that, scanning her face. "And here I thought you would freak out and hide in your room." The velvet voice was musing, almost amused, unlike the anger she'd heard earlier.

"Grey-" She yawned slightly, rubbing at her tired eyes. "Greyback helped get me to sleep after a bad dream… I was making pastries." Looking around at the unchanged office, she turned on her back, stretching her legs out. "Wonderful back massage though…"

Marvolo hissed slightly. "You should have come to find either I or Barty. We would be more than happy to help."

Brown eyes smiled down at her, even if it was strained. "As he says, princess. You can always wake one of us if you can't sleep." 

Humming shortly, she rolled off the sofa, smoothly landing on her feet and stretching her arms up. "Do wizards have marketplaces? Like shops and stuff? Or schools? Maybe I should go to school if-"

"You will do nothing of the sort." Marvolo's voice was back to being ice cold and she turned to look at him in equal parts curiosity and irritation.

Barty glanced at the man, before moving to clarify. "The man that runs the main wizarding school… he is Marvolo's sworn enemy and will not hesitate to put you in harms way should it weaken our side."

She tilted her head. "What side are you? Good or bad?"

Both men seemed to frown at this.

Harry sighed and leaned against the desk at her back. "I'm not judging and i'm sure everything is way more complicated than I am asking, but think of it this way, as a third party coming into this  _ 'rivalry' _ you two have… are you the 'good guys' or the 'bad guys'?"

With matching glances to each other, Marvolo looked away. "Bad guys, in your sense of the word."

"So my hypothesis about the red eyes  _ wasn't _ unfounded." She mused with a smile even as Marvolo scowled deeper. "And why do you think then, that the 'good guys' would pull me into your rivalry? I have nothing to do with it."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

With a sinking feeling, she gripped at the desk. " _Do_ _I_ have something to do with it?"

Barty sighed, cutting the thick tension. "Harry Potter was born, the child of a prophecy: she would have the power to defeat the Dark Lord. So on All Hallows Eve… the Dark Lord went to the house of Harry Potter and-"

"Killed them." Red eyes looked up at her. "Lily Potter, James Potter… and little Harry Potter. All dead."

Her hands were clamped on the table but her legs wouldn't move.

Red eyes watched her, cold and calculating. "And yet, when I went to leave, I heard a baby crying. Harry Potter had somehow survived and when I went back to kill her again- she was gone. Vanished without a trace… but you know what I found when I went to check? The prophecy was fake- made up by my  _ enemy _ ." Marvolo sneered at the name. "So… you, Harry Potter, are both fascinating and valuable to me and until I figure out why I cannot kill you, you will stay in this house."

Taking a long, shuddering breath, she nodded. "I can do you one better than. Not only will I leave, but I will tell you why you can't kill me. Death? I wish to go back."

The rattling voice whispered in her ear.  _ "Of course mistress." _

The world blurred.

**~~~**

Eighteen.

Finally.

It was as if she had finally been released from iron chains dragging her down, going to the bank and picking up a debit card that was attached to her parent's fortune.

Idly in the back of her mind she wondered how the Lily and James Potter of this world had died. 

Probably not via a psychopath with red eyes.

Harry traveled, learning and studying and soaking up everything she could. Psychology, religion, mathematics, science, myth, culture, literature- anything she could read she did. But it seemed… mundane after a certain point.

So she went back.

Not to the house shed been practically trapped in, no, for her twentieth birthday she traveled to the other world's America. Explored, got a job as a reporter, made friends with the goblins so she could get what she found was  _ another _ fortune made 'internationally accessible'.

And if she picked up a small ruby pendant on a leather cord because of the way she found reds and soft browns to be safe colors, so sue her. Eventually she knew that she'd have to go back to England, but still her heart hurt every time she thought of her parents, so she stayed away for now.

Then an owl delivered a letter- A job as a professor.

Standing, looking up at the school that looked nothing like a prison, she smiled. 

Maybe this was a good thing.

Walking through the halls that were familiar and yet not, as the sentient magic of the school seemed to be flirting with her own playfully, she paused before the great doors and took a breath.

Then as if knowing she was ready, she swept into the hall.

**~~~**

Children whispered. As she walked in, voices murmuring- she had heard the stories, the whispers of 'Harry Potter' during her travels, of the girl who had disappeared- but she was very good at blocking out things she didn't want to think about, something she had found to be called occlumency.

Her eyes scanned the table until she stuttered to a halt, her eyes locked on a silver hair woman. Her voice dared not be above a whisper. "Luna?"

The girl stood from her chair- something of a miracle in itself- and moved around the table. "Hey Hars. Long time no see… do you still play piano for dying girls?"

She was running, composure forgotten and the girl was swept into her arms. "I can believe- your father- he told me you were dead!"

"I was." The woman pulled back, smile waning slightly. "I did… the link I had with you could hold for only so long before I had to return to my original body, but I had hoped it was enough for you to follow me… It seems I was right."

"But you knew. About everything- why didn't you tell me?"

The girl looked oh so sad. "I couldn't influence fate, only try to guide you."

"My dear, welcome to Hogwarts." The voice was familiar, rising above the crowd and Luna. "If I may ask you to settle in at the staff table?"

Looking up, she understood why Marvolo would go to such lengths to defeat one person. Albus Dumbledore, with eyes just as blue but whose smile didn't make her want to throw up.

**~~~**

Was it fate? 

Cosmic design?

Or was it just bad luck that she found herself here, standing in this field.

Two sides, two vibrant eyes locked onto each other, and there was silence across the field. 

She was, of course, the first to speak. “Marvolo... my dragon prince… are you here to kill me or save me?”

“Harry.” His voice was soft and smooth, sending shivers down her spine. “My princess. Come with me home, to Nagini and Barty. Come with me and live as you deserve. Not as a weapon, but a  _ queen _ .”

With a heavy weight in her chest, she smiled at him, but the tears on her cheeks gave away her choice. “And here I thought you were the only person that would see me as more than a means to an end.”

The red eyes flashed. “I never treated you like the others did! I  _ never  _ hurt you!”

“And yet here you are… standing in opposition of me. How long do you think that can continue?” She didn’t reach for her wand, didn’t have enough effort other than to just stand still and take it. 

She would not hurt the man who had shown her how to live for herself.

Not holding the same reservations as her, the man raised his wand, the same one that had made floating lights for her when she had still been a broken and bloody child. “Don’t make me do this Harry.”

She tilted her head. “No one makes you do anything… isn’t that right  _ Tom _ ?”

A green light hit her chest and then she understood- understood the meaning of the life she had pondered over for so long- the reason to her very existence.

To die.

And once more- the final time- reality blurred.

**~~~**

In another universe not so far away, Harry Potter cried out in the middle of the night, a woman with long red hair groaning as she got out of bed.

A man made of shadows leaned over the crib of the young boy, voice a melancholy whisper.  _ “Two souls intertwined, never to be apart, but shunned by fate to never join… I hope, young master, that this life will treat you better than your last did. I think this time I will not take you away, see how it plays out this time around.” _

As Lily Potter stumbled into the nursery on that fateful Halloween night, James Potter following her sleepily, the protective wards fell.

Death watched, silent and sorrowful, as his master was once again the subject of fate’s trials.


End file.
